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Malibu on empty

First of all, Jeff was gone when I woke up today and I needed coffee. So I used the coffee grinder all by myself. I'm not fond of objects that go Wwwrrrrrrrrr loudly. It's just a thing. I basically did okay with it, though I almost forgot to close the lid before I turned it on. (A similar incident years ago with a blender full of strawberry margarita has scarred me forever.) Weak coffee was made and here I am, awake.
We hiked the Old Boney Trail with my friend the lovely Denise on Sunday, above Malibu. I'm always shocked to find out how far Malibu is. On a map it looks so close. So I didn't, for instance, fill up the car with gas before we left. As we turned into the mountains Jeff asked me how much further the trailhead was. I guessed about five miles. Actually it was closer to eight. We landed there with a very empty tank.
An hour or so later at Sandstone Peak, Jeff snapped pictures and sort of murmured a monologue to himself, perhaps out of delirium from the heat:"Hey, I can see the car from here. I can see people milling around by the car. I could see if anyone broke into it and tried to steal it. YOU WON'T GET FAR, BITCHES!!!!!"
After we coasted back down the mountain, Denise followed us a good ten miles into town to make sure we didn't break down on the side of the road. This was after giving us delicious white nectarines on the hike, tissues, etc. That's Denise. She says it's the mom in her.
So these pictures are of Denise looking mountainy and Jeff and I looking very warm. Did I mention it was hot? It was hot. Really, really hot. But beautiful. Malibu itself was fogged in, so that ocean of white clouds off in the distance in these pictures is usually blue and called the Pacific.




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